


phantom pain

by tonystarktrash



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Moving On, My Work Here Is Done, Not A Fix-It, Parent Pepper Potts, Pepper Potts Feels, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Iron Man 2, Pre-Iron Man 1, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarktrash/pseuds/tonystarktrash
Summary: Stretching, she shifts onto her side to face Tony, hand outstretched to run along his chest, expecting the thin bump of scar tissue from the arc reactor against the pads of her fingers, the warmth of his skin against her palm – his muffled complaint at how cold her hand is.Her hand passes through empty air and presses against the cold sheet on his side of the bed.a day in the life of pepper potts after the death of tony stark.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	phantom pain

The alarm blares at 6:00 a.m. Pepper can hear Tony’s groan, feel the jab of his fingers between her ribs, silently demanding that she shut it off before he dies from only getting seven hours of sleep instead of eight. Pepper sighs underneath their plush duvet, reaching out to her nightstand, index finger pressing against the ‘off’ button. Stretching, she shifts onto her side to face Tony, hand outstretched to run along his chest, expecting the thin bump of scar tissue from the arc reactor against the pads of her fingers, the warmth of his skin against her palm — his muffled complaint at how cold her hand is.

Her hand passes through empty air and presses against the cold sheet on his side of the bed. Pepper sits up, ginger hair a wild halo around her face from a restless night’s sleep, suddenly unable to breathe. Tony Stark is dead — she knows that he is dead, had buried his scarred body in his family’s plot at a cemetery in Long Island, held a ceremony for his passing with their closest friends and those wishing to honor his memory, his sacrifice — months ago. But every morning, her alarm goes off, and she reaches out for a husband that isn’t there.

_Breathe_. She wraps her arms around herself, squeezing with as much force as she can. _Just breathe._ Finally, a gasp wrenches its way out of her, and she can inhale shallowly. _Tony is dead. Tony is dead. Tony is dead._ Some mornings are worse than others — this one is gearing up to be terrible – the absolute certainty she had felt, knowing that her husband was in arm’s reach. Knowing that he would crawl out of bed when she gets up, muttering under his breath about a 6:00 a.m. alarm being psychological warfare, but inwardly pleased that he gets the opportunity to watch another sunrise with Pepper over the lake, to try his hand at making pancakes in the shape of dinosaurs for Morgan. _Tony is dead._

Morgan will have to settle for Lucky Charms this morning.

Pepper gets out of bed on shaking legs, the floor freezing under her feet. She wipes her eyes as she walks into the bathroom, rubbing away the tears that have begun to trail down her cheeks. _Tony is dead._ But his toothbrush is right there, beside hers, greeting her with its cheery blue pattern as Pepper turns on the light. She avoids the mirror, has avoided mirrors since his death. She knows what she looks like, she can feel the weight of the bags under her eyes, the oiliness of her skin, the dryness of her hair. She’s holding herself together for Morgan, but it feels like she’s running out of tape, like soon she’ll have to start sacrificing pieces of herself to survive.

“Breakfast,” she says to her hands as she scrubs soap between her palms, leaving her hands under the hot water until her skin turns red and she starts to feel twinges of pain from the heat. She can still feel something, she is still here. Tony is not _._

“Coffee,” she continues, drying her hands on the hand towel embroidered with their anniversary date and initials. Then, she quietly makes her way into the hallway, stepping over the creaking panel that had given Tony away many a late night as he crept off to his workshop in the garage. Morgan will sleep for another hour, maybe two. She used to be up with her parents, but ever since Tony… _died_ … she’s been waking up later. _Maybe she sees Tony in her dreams._ Pepper reaches out to grab at the bannister, nearly missing a step as she descends to the kitchen, wishing she saw Tony in her dreams. Well, a different Tony — not the Tony she had knelt in front of and comforted as he took his last breath.

The coffee maker chirps as she walks into the kitchen, right on time. With a sigh, she opens up one of the cabinets and reaches in for a mug, fingers quickly skirting past the one that declares NUMBER ONE DAD! in every single color of paint available at the craft store. A boring white ceramic mug will do this morning – anything boring, typical, or normal will do for today.

She wraps her fingers around the handle of the coffee pot, pouring coffee carefully into her mug, breathing in the rich scent. Her day is improving. Maybe. Setting aside the coffee pot, she looks down into her mug and feels another jerk in her chest. Tony drank his coffee black.

* * *

_This had not been in the job description. Nor had it been in her contract. To be fair, Pepper considers as she sits up on the couch, rubbing at her tired eyes – this could possibly fall under ‘the duties listed above are not exhaustive’._

_She had been fast asleep at three in the morning, huddled under her duvet, dreaming peacefully of the next pair of Louboutins she plans to buy when her direct deposit hits on Friday — and then her cellphone had begun to ring. ‘The Imperial March’ from Star Wars, Tony had informed her upon snatching her cellphone out of her hands and adding a ringtone to his contact, dutifully ignoring Pepper for the rest of the day when she told him that she’d never seen the movies._

_“What?” Pepper asks sleepily as she presses the phone against her ear._

_“PEPPER!” Tony sounds overjoyed, and very, very drunk. “Hey — howdy — hey — you asleep?”_

_“Mr. Stark, it’s… what time is it?”_

_“Closin’ time, Ms. Potts. I need a ride. The FUCKING BARTENDER —“ here, Pepper had held her phone at arm’s length, ears ringing, “ — took my keys from me. Says I’m too drunk to drive.” Tony’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “he’s probably right… aha… Anyways… You busy?”_

_And so Pepper had gotten into her car in her pajamas, driven to some dive bar, and collected a very drunk Tony Stark from the curb. She had then helped him up the stairs to his bedroom, turned him on his side so he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit, and left him to it. She had fully intended on going home, catching maybe half an hour of sleep before needing to get up and start her day… But the white leather couch in his living room had looked so inviting, and she really only meant to sit on it for a minute or two, to rest her eyes._

_She had closed her eyes, and J.A.R.V.I.S. had woken her up politely at 9:00, informing her that she had missed two meetings thus far this morning. She’s still in her pajamas, standing in Tony Stark’s kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing — a coffee maker that costs as much as this one did shouldn’t take **this** long to brew. Pepper feels a twinge of worry, Tony had been pretty wasted last night — worse than she’s ever seen, and he’s been intoxicated every day since they met, with very few exceptions._

_“J.A.R.V.I.S., where’s Mr. Stark?”_

_A pause. “In his workshop, ma’am.”_

_“Is he alive?”_

_Tony had told her that the A.I. wasn’t really capable of experiencing human emotion, but she detects a faint hint of amusement in its voice. “Yes, Ms. Potts. Aside from the complaints of a hangover, Mr. Stark appears to be quite well.”_

_Like an idiot, she brings him a cup of coffee — when has Tony ever done a small act of kindness for her? Never. Yet here she is, placing the mug of steaming hot coffee, with cream and extra sugar (Tony has a sweet tooth) down on his desk where Tony is slumped, his head resting on his arms._

_“Coffee?” He asks her blearily, lifting his head to look at her, his brown eyes making her stomach flutter like they always do._

_“Yes, Mr. Stark. I’m going to — go now.”_

_“You in your pajamas, Potts? Or am I dreaming?” Tony raises an eyebrow, grinning at her, though she swears his gaze lingers on her chest, as if he has x-ray vision. He doesn’t need it, the t-shirt she had worn to bed the night before is sheer enough that she might as well not be wearing one. Pepper blushes a bright pink, arms crossing over her chest. Tony’s grin widens._

_“I — fell asleep on the couch. I’ll see you at the office.” She turns to go, mortified, what had she been thinking?_

_“You call this coffee, Potts?” Tony calls after her as she flees for the nearest exit. “I take it black!”_

* * *

Maybe today won’t be so bad. She’d gotten Morgan up, fed and watered her daughter, and dropped her off at school without a hitch — and mercifully without a single mention of Tony. Usually, he’s the topic of every conversation when it comes to Morgan, as she tries to process the sudden passing of her father. Perhaps Pepper should feel guilty about Morgan’s lack of mentioning Tony today, but she doesn’t think she can take any more tears — her own early this morning had been enough. _Morgan will mention him tonight, anyways. At dinner. She always does._

Pepper had busied herself that morning with work, approving plans, reviewing budgets — in general, keeping Stark Industries together. Of course, there were no meetings on her schedule for today, aside from a conference call at 2:00 p.m. No video calls to be found on her calendar this week, or this month, or even this year. The board of directors had been endlessly understanding, surprisingly, though Pepper has a feeling that this kindness is really a mask for the treacherous conversations she knows are happening now that she’s not at the office. Take as much time off as you need, they had told her, as if she would come to the decision to resign on her own. They’re planning an ouster, she knows, but she doesn’t even have the energy to fight back.

She’s in the kitchen again, staring into their stocked fridge, expression blank. It’s 1:00 p.m., she needs to eat lunch before this call, but she doesn’t have an appetite. She sighs, grabbing the sliced turkey and cheese, tossing it on the counter. A tub of lettuce and a tomato are likewise thrown carelessly onto the counter.

Once her sandwich is prepared, she picks up the knife to slice it diagonally into triangles, hesitating when she remembers that this sandwich is for her, not Tony.

* * *

_“Potts,” Tony groans dramatically from the living room. “Potts, I’m staaaaaarving.”_

_“Make yourself something,” Pepper mutters, typing on her laptop, smiling slightly when she feels a kick. Reaching down, she runs a soothing hand over her stomach, feeling another strong kick against her palm. “Your kid’s beating me up.”_

_“Probably because they know that you’re trying to starve their old man to death before they’re even born.” Tony leans against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest, expression serious. “I can’t make myself something, anyways.”_

_“And why’s that?” Pepper clicks ‘send’, feeling satisfied as the ‘whoosh’ sound issues from her laptop’s speakers. “You are perfectly capable. Some would argue that a 42 year old man can prepare himself food, especially if he’s on the brink of death.”_

_The hairs of Tony’s goatee scrape against her skin as he presses a kiss to her cheek, hands resting on her shoulders. “I’m just so weak…” he murmurs._

_Pepper laughs, lifting her hand to run her fingers through his greying hair, closing her eyes as she leans her head against his._

_“And it always tastes better when someone else makes it,” Tony gently turns her head so that he can kiss her properly. “Must I say pretty please?”_

_Pepper hums, cupping his face in her hands, considering his request. “Yes, you must.”_

_Tony sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, and Pepper knows what’s coming — yes, his best puppy-dog eyes pleading. “Pretty please, Pep? I’m dying.”_

_She laughs again, wondering if Tony Stark will ever stop making her laugh, even when he’s not trying to. “Fine, fine.” She pushes herself off of the stool, leaving her laptop at the breakfast nook, tucking her arm through his and pulling him with her into the kitchen. “But you’re helping.”_

_“I don’t remember that being part of my request,” Tony says as he gets the bread out. “Don’t forget to cut it into triangles."_

_Pepper rolls her eyes. “How could I?”_

* * *

Dinner is spaghetti and meatballs. Again. She knows they had it sometime earlier this week, maybe on Tuesday? But it’s easy, and Pepper needs easy. Morgan doesn’t complain, she loves pasta as much as her father does — did. If Tony had no other recourse but to make his own food, he would make a bowl of pasta, regardless of what time it was. Pepper had once found him eating a bowl of tri-color rotini at four in the morning after waking to change Morgan’s diaper. He’d wanted a snack, and instead of grabbing something from the pantry, his first thought had been pasta.

“Can we have dessert?” Morgan asks as she dries the last dish — a chore she had always done with her father at her side, Tony spraying her with the sink hose every few minutes to make sure she was paying attention. When chastised by Pepper, armed with a mop, he had looked at her innocently and said he was only giving Morgan a shower so she’d be ready for bed – making Pepper’s life easier, supposedly.

Pepper gently rubs at the bags under her eyes, wanting nothing more than to go to bed – even if it meant waking with the sensation of her dead husband’s arms wrapped around her in a loving embrace — at least she wouldn’t have to think while asleep. But Morgan is looking at her with that pleading expression learned from her father, and Pepper can’t help but nod.

“I think the only thing we have is ice cream,” Pepper says thoughtfully, putting the last bowl away once Morgan hands it to her. “Let’s see.”

Morgan scampers over to the fridge, pulling open the bottom door to the freezer, shivering at the blast of cold air. “Yes!” She holds a tub of ice cream aloft, a sugarcrazed grin on her face. “Mint chocolate chip!”

* * *

_“Tony, shouldn’t you… go to a hospital, or something?” He’s bleeding, it’s dripping on the floor of his workshop despite the towel he has pressed to his abdomen — for Christ’s sake, it’s a bath towel — she’ll have to throw it out, there’s no way she’ll get that much blood out of it._

_“It’s just a scratch, honey,” Tony says with a grimace, pressing the towel harder against his abdomen. “I’ll be fine. Just gotta get the first-aid kit out. And then what do you say to a date?”_

_“A date?” Pepper asks him faintly, hurrying over to the first-aid kit hung up on the wall of the workshop, taking it down with fumbling hands. “To the hospital?”_

_“Nah, not to the hospital.” Tony sits down on a nearby workbench, pulling the towel away, his color remarkably good for someone who seems to be bleeding out. Pepper feels nauseous, she’s never been the best about blood, and dating Iron Man hasn’t really changed that yet. Usually, though, he only comes home bruised, the suit having taken most of the damage. Tonight, the entire abdomen of the suit had been reduced to twisted metal — Pepper has no idea how Tony even made it home with the suit like that. She’ll ask him if he doesn’t die._

_Steeling herself, she sits across from him, and forces herself to look at his stomach. Ripped black neoprene of his undersuit, tanned skin, a line of brown hair leading down from his bellybutton and — a shallow cut. Really more of a scratch than anything else. Pepper blinks, not believing her eyes._

_“I told you,” Tony says as he undoes the clasps of the first-aid kit with far steadier hands than hers. “It really is just a scratch. The suit took the brunt of the impact.” He grabs the bottle of antibacterial spray, offering it to her. “C’mon, it’s your favourite part. I’ll shriek like a baby, if you want.”_

_Pepper can’t seem to get her hands to stop trembling, she stares down at them, watching her fingers as they shake. Suddenly, Tony’s hands are around hers, warm, the calluses on his palms rough against the back of her hands._

_“Pep, honey.” He leans in and kisses her cheek softly. “I really am okay. I promise. Cross my heart. It just looked worse than it was.”_

_“This really is too much for me,” she murmurs, voicing a thought she’s done her best to ignore ever since they started dating. “It’s so much stress, Tony. Every time you leave, I worry that you won’t come back.”_

_Tony’s fingers press between hers for a moment, then he brings her right hand up to his lips. “I promise you, Pepper Potts. I’ll always come back. Promise.”_

_Pepper sighs, wanting to believe him — but the damage his suit had taken tonight tells her otherwise. One day, he won’t be so lucky. But he was tonight, he’s here, he’s alive, she can feel the warmth of his breath against her skin._

_“I’m fine. Unless you let this get infected and I go septic and die.” He drops her hand, offering her the bottle with a grin. “Do your worst, Potts.”_

_He squeals when she sprays the antiseptic on his cut, squirms when she wipes it clean and presses a square of gauze over it. Just like that, it’s like nothing happened — aside from the wrecked suit and torn undersuit. Tony pulls her to her feet and tosses the bloody towel onto the floor, foot dragging it over the scattered droplets of blood._

_“I promised you a date,” he says as he ushers her over to the Audi. “Let’s go.”_

_He holds her hand as he drives, chatting with her about her day, about the waste-of-time meeting she had before lunch, about stock options and ideas coming out of R &D. As they get further and further from home, she finds herself relaxing, the adrenaline and panic fading. She raises an eyebrow as they pull into a strip mall just off the freeway, wondering whether Tony is going to take her into a knock-off Build-A-Bear Workshop, or perhaps an adult entertainment store called ‘Seduction’, complete with a neon sign in the shape of plump red lips flashing on and off. _

_“Get your mind out the gutter, Pep,” Tony tsks, opening her door for her. “We’re going down there.”_

_He points to the very end of the shopping plaza, the smallest unit, a little hand-painted sign in the shape of an ice cream cone dangling from the awning. Pepper squints in the darkness, trying to read the name._

_“Al’s Ice Cream,” Tony tells her, tugging her along. “I’ve been coming here since I moved. It’s the best. What’re you in the mood for?”_

_Somehow, Pepper finds herself sitting at a table outside of Al’s Ice Cream, holding a cone that is towering precariously with white chocolate and raspberry flavored ice cream, fighting a losing battle as she attempts to eat it before it can melt all over her hand. Tony is devouring his ice cream so fast that she’s worried he’ll have a debilitating brain freeze and will end up in the hospital anyways._

_When he kisses her, he tastes of mint chocolate chip ice cream._

_“I love you,” he murmurs, it’s the first time he’s ever said it._

_“I love you too,” Pepper replies. Maybe she’ll order mint chocolate chip next time._

* * *

Morgan is asleep. The house is quiet, the front door is locked. Pepper has taken a shower and washed away the makeup she doesn’t recall having put on this morning. All that’s left is to get into bed and close her eyes. Tomorrow is Saturday — no work, though she might check her email a few times. Maybe she and Morgan can go to the park with Rhodey, or Peter, if he’s not overwhelmed with homework. Or perhaps both of them, Morgan would like that.

Pepper turns off the bathroom light, walking into their darkened bedroom. She steps around Tony’s slippers at the end of the bed, where he had left them on his last morning at home. She can’t quite make herself put them in the closet, let alone consider giving them away.

With a sigh, Pepper lies down on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath her. Her hand grasps at Tony’s pillow, pulling it into her arms, closing her eyes as a faint hint of his cologne washes over her. She’ll get around to washing his pillowcase. Eventually.

* * *

_“Give me some of the blanket,” Pepper grumbles, grabbing at the corner of the soft throw and pulling it towards her._

_“Uh, you have enough,” Tony says as he rolls onto his side to face her, eyebrows furrowed._

_“Tony, we’re going to need separate bedrooms if you continue to be a blanket hog.” Pepper’s tone is no-nonsense, and Tony relents at the very suggestion. It’s their first night sleeping in the newly rebuilt Stark Tower — well, they had been trying to go to sleep for the past couple of hours, after christening a few of the rooms, with their bed being the top priority. Her pajamas are on the floor somewhere, maybe in the utility closet, too far away to go and get — and she will not spend her first night in their old-but-new bedroom chilled to the bone._

_“Aw, Pep. You really know how to hurt my feelings,” Tony murmurs, nosing at her hair, his arms wrapping around her. “You’re leaving me no choice but to hold on to you all night if **you** insist on being a blanket hog.” _

_She laughs, pressing a kiss to his chin blindly in the darkness. “There are worse things.”_

_Tony is silent for a moment, considering it. Pepper wishes she hadn’t said that, she knows he’s thinking of Howard Stark’s raised fist, of Afghanistan, of Obadiah’s betrayal, of the Expo, of plummeting through empty space as his lungs starve for air, of aliens and death, of being surrounded by crowds of people and feeling nothing but loneliness._

_“Yes, there are.” His arms squeeze around her in a brief hug. “I love you. Good night, Pepper.”_

* * *

“Good night, Tony.” 


End file.
